


Echoes and Blessings

by Esdeem



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 22:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17170712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esdeem/pseuds/Esdeem
Summary: Many people have imaginary friends growing up, but Rose's is developing a tendency to get her into trouble. He also might not be as imaginary as it seems, and he needs a home, and a family, every bit as much as she does...





	Echoes and Blessings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Straya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straya/gifts).
  * Inspired by [DezeRose 1prompt "Pendulums"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/443654) by Straya. 



He awoke to discover the girl had, yet again, disappeared.

He grumbled as he strapped on his knives, slid on his leather vest and ambled out of his tent and into the organized chaos that was the Windriders came in the early morning. He nodded to the young recruit who awoke him with the news and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he negotiated past bursts of activity. By the time he reached the edge of camp, he had a few pieces of the puzzle.

Those on breakfast detail saw her last, she'd mentioned exploring the nearby woods and the scout team encountered particularly aggressive on patrol. That meant more to him than any of the others, and he hurried to the edge of the forest.

A breeze brushed over his shoulder. He wasn't alone.

He only just reached the tree line when he heard a scream. He bolted into the forest, tracing a well worn path in the undergrowth. The cries of the girl grew louder, and as he drew close a cloud of leaves and twigs burst into the air, then another scream. Just barely audible below it, a frustrated grunt.

He drew his knives as he slid into the clearing. The girl was on her back, long red hair splayed out around her as she inched away. Opposite her stood a pair of massive wolves, snarling and bearing their fangs. That was all she could see, and that would be terrifying enough. But Brad could make out the dark miasma that rolled off their backs like smoke from a fire.

He also noticed a rustling in the bushes to one side, as though something just ducked into them.

That could wait. He charged forward, knives at the ready. The blades sang through the air, lashing out at the first wolf's sides and neck, tearing free chunks of fur and flesh, splattering his arms with blood. Driven by rage, its powerful jaws snapped, but Brad was prepared to deal with such crazed attacks.

The second wolf rounded on him, but seconds later a heavy weight crashed into its throat. It went down with a loud yelp, and a tall figure in black zoomed past. Brad paid him no heed, instead looking for the beast's neck. One wild lunge later, the opportunity presented itself and Brad slid the knife across the exposed throat. The beast slumped to the ground, body twitching as the life ebbed away, the miasma fading from view.

Only now did he look to the second, whose the tall man had pinned to the ground with one knee. He peered down at the wolf, its mouth frothing as it tried to get free, and a pained look passed over his fate. He ran a hand along the wolf's head, as gently as one might pet a dog, before grabbing its head and wrenching its neck hard to the side.

“I give you this small mercy, my friend,” Lafarga said, resting his hand along its head before standing up.

The hellions vanquished, he turned his attention back to the girl, who'd risen to her knees, her face buried in her hands. Better she didn't see that. She was too young to know the ways of the world, let alone the horrors that lurked beyond the sight of ordinary men and women. Cleaning the blood from his blades and wiping off his arms with a loose rag, he walked over and knelt beside her. Gone was the scowl of a fearsome warrior, replaced with a warm, gentle look. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she gasped and jerked away.

“Rose! It's okay. It's over.”

The girl peered at him, her crystal blue eyes rimmed with tears. She refused to let them fall, but after a split second of hesitation, he pitched forward and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“I thought they were going to get me. Those dark wolves were the scariest things I've ever seen! Even scarier than your ghost friend!”

_Dark wolves,_ he thought.  _What a strange thing to call them._ He'd dismissed it when the child spoke about his ghost. Lafarga helped him fight off Rolance soldiers when they first found her, and she must have seen something invisible fight off those soldiers. But now... well, that was impossible. And more important, he needed to use this excursion as a teaching moment.

“ _This_ is why we don't let you run off on your own. What could have possibly possessed you to do such a thing.”

“The boy told me there were beautiful flowers in the clearing. He wanted to show me.”

Her imaginary friend again. She'd invented the coping mechanism not long after she lost her family, and he'd accepted it to this point. He'd almost launched into a diatribe about putting away childish things when he remembered the bushes. The look on Lafarga's face suggested the wind seraph had the same thought.

_We were absolutely clear about this._

“Rose, this imaginary friend of yours. The boy. What does he look like?”

Leaves rustled behind them again.

“He has sharp teeth, kinda like a shark. But he's  _not_ a shark. Sharks don't have kind eyes like his.”

Lafarga grumbled. This was an unexpected complication.

By now, the commotion had drawn a few other Windriders into the forest. The recruit who'd summoned him this morning led the way, a couple of newcomers with even less experience than the boy. He took a step forward, the other two falling in step behind him.

“We heard fighting from the camp. Is everything okay?”

“It's fine, Eguille. Rose just had another flight of fancy and the forest didn't take kindly to her intrusion.” He stood up and gestured to Rose. “Take her back to camp, I'm going to make sure there's nothing else dangerous lurking in these woods.”

“Should one of us--”

“That won't be necessary. Besides, the three of you are so green you'll need to work together to take down a Davahlian rabbit.”

Eguille nodded. “The wind be ever at your back, Brad.”

He smirked. “It always is.”

Wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeves, Rose stood up and offered a hand to Eguille. He smiled broadly at her.

“Let's get you back to camp, young lady. We're experimenting with a new kind of sweet bun, and we'll let you be the first to try it.”

Rose sniffled. “Better be spicy.”

“You and the spicy food...” He laughed, and before long their voices faded in the distance. Only then did Brad spin around, glaring at the bushes he saw move earlier.

“No use hiding. Come out, boy. We need to have words.”

The shrubs remained still, but another set of shrubs in the distance swayed. Brad scoffed.

“You're really going to try little parlor tricks to fool me when I have a full grown wind seraph with me?”

“It's okay,” Lafarga added. “We just want to talk.”

The child who emerged from the bushes matched Rose's description to a tee. He was young, perhaps only a few years older than Rose, shaggy green hair falling over his face. His teeth were sharp, but his eyes looked anything but kind, narrowed to make the ugly snarl on his face.

“I have a name, you know.”

“And we set down rules. Sounds like we've both forgotten things we've been told.” He sighed, some of the anger ebbing. “I assumed Rose's imaginary friend was just that. I should have considered it more carefully.”

“She can only see me sometimes.”

“Sometimes is enough to cause trouble. Rose is too young to understand the truth.  _Especially_ if she was born with resonance like mine. This will only confuse her more.”

“Besides,” Lafarga said, his tone softening to contrast with Brad's annoyance, “I made a promise.”

“ _He_ made a promise too. He said he'd come back for me. I never wanted to be part of this.”

“Until he comes back, you'll need to obey our rules. And from now on, the most important one is not bothering Rose. Not until I can teach her all she needs to know.”

“I'm waiting to leave, waiting to talk to her. I'm getting tired of waiting all the time!” He slammed his arms to his side, gusts of wind bursting out in all directions before he stormed off, back down the path out of the forest. Brad started to go after him, but Lafarga put a hand on his shoulder.

“Remember,” the wind seraph said, “He's been through a lot too.”

* * *

 

Dezel only learned he'd be under the care of Brad and Lafarga the day it happened.

It began two years before Rose joined the Windriders. They had set up camp a short distance from Glaivend Basin, on the way to a small farming settlement on the fringes of Rolance territory. Their successful crops earned the attention of a crew of bandits nearby, who demanded protection money and walked off with as much of the harvest as they liked. The Windriders were hired to teach them a valuable lesson about the importance of a free market.

They'd just finished breakfast and started to break down camp when the man appeared in the distance, a young child in tow beside him. Brad had never seen him before in his life, but such were the tales Lafarga and the old master told about him that he recognized him all the same. The wind seraph's lips curled into a warm smile and he waved as he drew closer.

He wore no shirt, the tattoos that lined his body clearly visible. His hair was long and wild, his handsome face wearing a perpetual smirk. He would have caught the eye of every woman in camp, and perhaps a good number of the men as well. A pity, Brad thought, that none of them could see him.

“Zaveid!” Lafarga said, calling out next to a pair of Windriders who couldn't hear him shout. “What's it been... one, two hundred years now?”

“Not long enough, you filthy scoundrel!”

“That's a laugh, coming from you.”

“Kiddo, you're the one running around with mercs and putting the beat down on people for money. Me, I'm just a free agent, going where the wind takes me. You know, like a true wind seraph.”

“If you're the best example of our kind, the wind seraphim are sure to be a dying breed.” He glanced to the sharp toothed child at Zaveid's side. He almost looked feral. “Picking up strays again?”

The boy growled, but the smile on Zaveid's face faded. “That's part of the reason I'm here. The old man still alive and kicking?”

Lafarga matched his somber expression. “Yes, but getting weaker every day. You're probably just in time.”

“Good. I need to see him.”

“He's been picky about his visitors, but I know he'll make an exception for you.” Lafarga nodded to Brad, and the four made their way through the camp, to a large wagon covered in a purple tarp. Brad knocked on the wooden frame, then stepped inside.

The man sitting cross legged in the shadows was frail, his body wasting away, but still carried himself as a man who had once been quite formidable. A purple and white robe hung over his bony shoulders, his legs withered and useless now. Wrinkled skin pulled tight around his face, or at least what was visible of it. Thick bandages covered half, though what Brad could see curved into a smile, and he looked past him with his one good eye, to the open flap of the wagon.

“I see an ill wind has gathered among us once again.”

“Please tell me,” Zaveid said as he stepped inside, “You're not playing the part of a mystical soothsayer. That doesn't suit you at all.”

“Still as much as ass as ever.” He laughed, a hollow sound like dry leaves crunching under foot. “Some of us age and change, unlike certain irritating seraphs who only change their wardrobe. You have even less shame than the last time I saw you, and that's saying something.”

“Just giving the people what they want, old man.”

Another quick chuckle, then his expression grew serious. “As good as it is to see you, I doubt you tracked us down just to trade banter and old war stories.”

“No.” Zaveid grimaced. “The rumors are true about Eizen. It finally happened.”

“I'd heard rumors. There's nothing left of him now, is there?”

“We knew there wouldn't be, didn't we?”

“I suppose so.”

“I have a promise to keep, and as fate would have it I think I might have a lead on something that will help me pull it off. But there's another complication now.”

Zaveid nodded, and the boy walked to his side. The old man just sighed.

“You haven't changed at all.”

“Guess not, but the thing is, the road I'm walking down is dangerous. And if I succeed, facing down a dragon is no place for a kid, either.” Zaveid's voice grew even more serious than before. “I won't let another kid get hurt.”

The old man nodded, but his lips curled into a smirk once more. “So, instead you place him in the care of a daemon?”

What? You think I'm crazy? No, I was gonna have Lafarga look after him.” He shrugged. “I just know you're cranky in your old age, so I wanted to get the okay from you.”

“Zaveid, what are you talking about?” The child scowled at him. “You told me  _you_ were gonna train me! That I was gonna be a powerful wind seraph just like you.”

“What's your name, boy?” the old man asked.

“Dezel.”

“Well Dezel, you should know that when it comes to wind seraphs, Zaveid's kind of all talk. You want to learn from a master, then Lafarga's the guy you want. But... there is a danger, being among humans.”

Zaveid stuck a thumb in Brad's direction. “He's got your old knives still, right? And only one of them is a vessel for the kiddo over there. So why not bind him to the other one?”

“You've thought it all through, haven't you?”

“It's just what I do.”

“Hardly.” The old master leaned back, his attention focused on Dezel for several seconds. Perhaps it was a trick of the darkness, but it almost looked like a red light flashed from beneath the bandages, where his other eye had once been. “Then it's agreed. Until Zaveid returns, you will be in our care.”

Dezel folded his arms over his chest and looked to the ground. Given his youth, it looked like nothing so much as a severe pout. “I could help him, you know.”

“And I believe you'll help us a great deal. And we, in turn, can help you.”

“Like the old timer said, Dez! It's only temporary. I'll be back before you know it.”

“You better.”

The old man clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Well then, Lafarga, Brad, if you'd care to show him around? I'd like to have a few more words with my old friend before he leaves.”

Despite his chipper tone, Brad knew it wasn't a request. He bowed. “Of course, master.” With that, he led the other two away. As soon as they left, the old master sighed.

“You're not planning to coming back.”

“I plan to, I just don't expect to. That's a big distinction.” Zaveid shrugged. “So I gotta be prepared, you know? Besides... I'm not gonna cart that kid around with me if there's even the slightest chance something goes wrong. I don't want him to end up like Silva.”

The old man coughed. “Your journey's going to be a long one, isn't it?”

“Probably. Going off of rumor and legend here, to be honest.”

“Whoever wins that fight... will be the last of us, won't he?”

“Guess so.”

“Set him free, Zaveid. He doesn't deserve the hand fate dealt him.”

“I promised him I would.”

“And I promise I'll keep young Dezel safe.”

But it was only a few weeks later that the inevitable happened, and that promise fell to Lafarga and Brad, the inheritors of the old master's legacy.

* * *

 

Dezel followed the letter of the rules perfectly, if neatly sidestepping the intent.

Rose never saw him, as he always kept a safe distance, always gave himself a place to hide just in case he drew her attention. But when she went into town or wandered away from the camp, Dezel would leave little presents in her bed. If he found a pretty flower or an interesting stone, it would be waiting for her.

Though his gifts weren't always a success, as he learned the time he left the interesting, cute little spider for her. Her screams woke up the entire camp, and he barely managed to scoop the innocent arachnid up to spirit to him to safety before the mob arrived. Disappointing. He was only a tiny bit venomous!

The closest he came to getting into any real trouble came the day a caravan of noblemen happened past the Windriders on the road, slowing their carts down to shout insults and threaten them to get out of their way. Brad complied, but the nobles had been so invested in harassing them, they didn't even notice the breeze blow into their carriage, let alone Dezel's fingers slipping into their gald purses and lightning their load.

Naturally, the windfall found its way to Rose's bed side, but Brad was furious. He knew where it must have come from, and feared the wrath of the nobles coming down on them. He felt so bad that he almost approached Brad and told him the truth.

Almost, for he feared he might no longer be able to see her, even from afar.

Before long, human and seraph became teenagers, and their roles with the Windriders began to change. For Dezel, that meant lessons with Lafarga to master his command of the wind, and to use the pendulum weapons common to their people. Rose, on the other hand, started out with small tasks. Putting up and breaking down camp, cleaning, mending gear and cooking.

Well, that one didn't last long. After the Windriders were out of commission for a week on account of food poisoning, Brad wisely decided to remove her from that rotation.

Her failures at the campfire were offset by a natural aptitude for bartering in the towns they came to, and before long the Windriders were pulling a tidy side profit off items acquired in their travels. Rose knew the perfect approach in any situation, whether it required her to turn up the charm, remaining firm in her asking price or even matching a client insult for insult.

Zaveid never came back, but over time Dezel found himself hoping he never would. He wanted to see what became of Rose. And there was always that lingering hope that one day, he would fight by her side, the same way Brad and Lafarga worked together.

Just like the pair of them found a family among this group of mercenaries.

Everything changed at, of all places, just outside the forest where they'd faced off with the wolves years earlier. As soon as they'd set up camp for the night, Brad approached Rose and gestured for her to follow him. The pair moved off into the woods.

Silent as the wind, Dezel followed.

Once they reached that same clearing, the leader of the Windriders produced a cloth parcel and set it on the ground, then unrolled it.

Within was a leather belt with two sheathes, both containing knives. He looked at Rose with a stern expression.

“It's time. If you're going to remain with us, you need to defend yourself, and eventually join us on the battlefield. It's time for me to pass down the Rangetsu fighting style, just as it was passed to me.”

She moved toward the blades. “Finally trust me with my first set of daggers, huh?”

He pulled them back. “You think I'm going to train a clumsy girl like you using live blades?” He scoffed. “We train with practice daggers first, soft wood. Once I'm satisfied you're not going to accidentally lop your hands off, then I'll consider it. You will have to  _earn_ these blades. Understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“And if you call me sir again, I'm putting you on clean up duty for a month.”

“R-right!”

He turned and looked at the clearing around them. “Been a while since we were here last, hasn't it?”

“Yeah.” Rose rubbed the back of her neck. She'd cut off the long hair months ago, as though a right of passage from childhood to being a teenager. “I was pretty troublesome back then, huh?”

“Spoken like you think you're not  _still_ a huge pain in my ass.”

“I just make your life interesting.” She sighed. “Still. At least I'm not running off on the advice of an imaginary friend anymore.”

_Imaginary_ . Who knew one simple word could sting so badly. He found it hard to focus on the rest of their conversation. 

He stayed for the entire training session, and Rose hardly looked clumsy as she pressed her advantage again Brad with every move. She never quite managed a hit, but Brad's initial lackadaisical stance was replaced with intense focus. Rose forced him to take the match seriously.

The training session lasted for an hour, and he fell in step behind them as they walked. He was so lost in though he didn't notice the twig under his foot until he stepped on it and snapped it. Rose spun around, looked in Dezel's direction.. and seemed to look right through him.

Maybe she really had outgrown him.

* * *

 

Lafarga found Dezel just outside campe that night, peering up at the stars. The older wind seraph said nothing as he sat next to him, following his gaze. They'd done this a few times, and Lafarga never pressed him to discuss his feelings, nor did he offer any unsolicited advice. He just waited, and inevitably Dezel would break the tension.

“Watched Rose's first training session today.”

“How'd it go?”

Dezel responded with a grunt.

“That good, huh?”

“She'd got talent.”

He pressed, just a little. “It's not her talent you're worried about, is it?”

“She can't see me anymore.”

“Perhaps not, for now at least.”

“I think she's outgrown me.”

“Teenagers outgrow a lot of things. But like your weird obsession with bugs, you don't outgrow resonance.”

“You don't like bugs, I get it.”

“I never said I don't like them. I just prefer them to stay on the sides of trees or buried in the dirt. Not running wild when I'm trying to sleep.”

“It happened one time.”

“One too many, and that's not the point right now.” Lafarga sighed. “The same thing happened with Brad, actually. I think it's easier for children to tap into their resonance. Kids are willing to believe the world is a magical place, then they get older and responsibilities crop up. They stop looking for answers in the outside world. But, like I said, she won't outgrow her resonance. Whether or not she'll develop it, like Brad has? That's another question entirely.”

“How do you deal with it? The humans changing so much, so fast?”

“By watching, learning, and protecting them as best we can. Even if they can't see us, we can still make a positive influence on their lives.”

“Even if they've given up on us?”

“It's only temporary. She's still the child that listened to you, even if it takes the echoes a few years to reach her again. She'll never truly forget you, Dezel. Even if she never sees your face again, or never knows your name. You're important to her.”

“Wish I could believe that.”

“Whether or not you believe a thing, “Lafarga said, getting back to his feet, “Truth is truth.”

Later that night, while the other Windriders gathered around the fire, ate and swapped stories, Dezel wandered back into the forest clearing. There, near one of the bushes, was the flower he wanted to show her on that fateful day. It was, ironically enough, a rose. Its petals, rather than the usual red, were a swirl of white and pink, the stem and leaves an almost luminous green. Carefully, he plucked it and walked back to camp.

Folklore said anyone who found this flower would be blessed with a glorious future, and would one day find what their heart truly desired. Or, if they chose, the person who plucked the flower could pass it on to someone dear to them, passing that good fortune on to them. He sat it atop the pillow in her tent then walked away, a rare smile crossing his lips.

The flower had many names, but one lingered in his mind, one far too appropriate for her. The Precious Rose.

* * *

 

That night, as Rose entered her tent, she stopped and stared at the flower atop her pillow. She knew nothing of the folklore surrounding it, nor the good fortune its appear promised her. But carefully, she pulled out a small trunk that she carried with her from town to town and lifted the lid. Within were a variety of small stones, a few gald pieces and a variety of other little items that would probably mean nothing to anyone else who saw them.

She rummaged until she found a book and opened it. Within its pages were a number of flowers, perfectly pressed within. She found a blank section, carefully lined up the rose, then pressed down hard. After a few minutes, she rearranged the items within, making sure to keep weight on the book. Like everything else, she would keep the present.

What she'd said to Brad earlier that night was true, she no longer talked about an imaginary friend. Instead she remembered the guardian seraph that she believed watch over her at all times. As she curled under her blankets, she wished once more that she would be able to see his face, and those kind eyes again once day.

She never knew the legend of the rose, but one day its blessing would shine upon her after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Christmas story done for my wife over the course of a few days, since I know how much these characters and this pairing means to her. I think it could have been a longer multipart story, but as I've already got a few long form stories in the works, I decided to keep it shorter. 
> 
> There isn't a whole lot of information given about Brad and Lafarga, nor about Dezel's history prior to his joining the Windriders, and the idea was inspired by a picture of Dezel and Rose together as children that my wife drew at one point. I'd like to play with the idea of characters being born with resonance but not knowing what is is or how to control it again at some point, there are some interesting stories you can tell with it. The idea of the "Old Master" emerged as I was writing the story, and I liked the idea of daemons living longer than the average human and tying that in with Rose's fighting style. Plus it was fun to write the banter with he and Zaveid.


End file.
